What Mr. Puddle Didn’t Know

Mr. Puddle left his house just after four
Looking for a friend, a tick he’d met before
Lately he’d been thinking
As we sometimes do
Tableware was clinking
The side of his canoe
What he didn’t know was how to open up the door

Buses swayed like jelly up and down the street
Puddle knew the firemen would soon retreat
Then he saw a thingy
Something caught his eye
Seeing it was stringy
He made no reply
What he didn’t know was how to keep a steady beat

Later in the changing room without a hook
Mr. Puddle acted like he’d read the book
Tick was privy to it
That is all we know
Someone had to do it
Puddle let it go
What he didn’t know was just how long the whole thing took

Just before his bedtime in the dining car
Tick procured a broom from just behind the bar
Swept it all up sweetly
From the dirty floor
Stacked the teacups neatly
“What’d you do that for?”
What he didn’t know was that they hadn’t gone that far

After Mr. Puddle and his friend the tick
Heard the screaming babies they performed the trick
When the music started
Someone blew the fuse
Everyone departed
Such depressing news
What he didn’t know was how to shake a fairy stick

That is why this story has a moral too
Every tale should have one even if it’s true
Never take a pigeon
To a matinee
Not even a smidgeon
Not the other way
Mr. Puddle’s sorry that he never really knew


15 October 2006

The Tick of Maplehurst

A tick upon the primrose path
made Franny start to sway.
It jumped up in her nose, you see
and there began to play
a tune about old Maplehurst
upon its red guitar,
the smallest one you’ll ever see
not here nor very far.

The tick had been at Maplehurst,
one of the very few
who was not killed amidst the strife
and did not get the flu.
So many others lost their lives
in battles fought out there,
but not the tick in Franny’s nose.
I know that seems unfair.

It’s not for us to understand.
We’re not to question why.
Some of us just have the luck.
Some of us just die.
Some of us just have a tick
playing music in our noses,
but that’s our fault for bending down
to smell the lovely roses.


18 August 2006